


Seeker customs

by Sakiku



Series: Sunny O'Keeffe [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Seeker Customs, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakiku/pseuds/Sakiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream is very not amused when Sunstreaker finally manages to tackle him out of the air. Starscream is even less amused to discover that Sunstreaker actually knows what kind of Seeker custom he has stumbled upon. At least the glitch is good at it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeker customs

**Author's Note:**

> Next to the Sunny-O'Keefe prompt, I also drew heavy inspiration from this prompt: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=10483678#t10483678>
> 
> Not quite aerial courtship, but... well...

“So that yellow menace is finally back in the game?” Starscream mused as he studied the video feed he had ripped from one of Soundwave’s pesky little drones. It had been a very low day when Sunstreaker, renowned artist all across Cybertron, had decided to stop painting some centuries into the war. The news that the yellow menace had started again, had spread through the ranks like a glitch-virus, only enhanced by the way the cassettes tried to keep it quiet.

But this --

Starscream scowled at what the feed revealed. This kind of come-back wasn’t what he had expected or wished. Suni Flitzer, what a crude and uninspired alias that contained far too much from human languages. Just like all those other painting titles. And it was a complete disgrace that Sunstreaker insisted on doing his art with formations of this organic mudball instead of proper Cybertronian landscapes. Starscream shuddered to think of the perversion of translating Prime Housing into rock and dirt. Just good that he had managed to trick Soundwave into stealing him a copy already millennia ago.

A masterful plan for a masterful painting.

It had been quite the feat to convince the telepath that Megatron wanted a reproduction to study Prime's weaknesses. But Starscream had played his authority and natural cunning, and then arranged for the painting to be delivered into _his_ quarters instead of Megatron's. No bot had caught on yet, as his trine kept quiet of it, and his quarters were off-limits for everyone else. Wouldn’t do to have other mechs sullying his well-treasured private time. The image of Prime's valve opening into the temple of Simfur was a very nice addition to the wall at the foot of his berth, if he had to say. He was considerably pleased that his plan had gone off without a hitch.

As Starscream’s plans always did. It was only when Megatron reared his power to countermand parts of -- or even the entire -- plan, that things went awry.

And awry they did inevitably go.

The next half-witted plan of their oh-so-glorious leader demanded that they raid a hydroplant less than three kliks away from Autobot City. For once, even _Soundwave_ had protested -- as much as that drone ever protested -- but Megatron insisted that this was exactly the right way to show those outdated Autobots their superiority.

Of course the Autobots arrived at the location within breems, and of course Megatron went after Prime while the rest of the Decepticons were left to fend for themselves with only sparing directions from Soundwave. At least the Aerialbots were absent, so Starscream and his trine were uncontested in their air superiority and could take potshots at the Autobot sniper lines.

That was, until those pit-spawned blade twins cheated with their slagging jetpacks.

Groundpounders shouldn’t fly, was Starscream’s firm conviction, and the way they careened through the air like overcharged fools only confirmed his belief. This was more than the hundredth time they had practiced their jet-judo, and they still had less control over their air vector than a new mechling seeker. It was luck alone that allowed them to catch one of his Seekers occasionally. There was no method to their jumps, more often than not leading to them tumbling off towards the ground. Sometimes they managed to drag the seeker they had targeted with them, but that was coincidence. And all of Starscream’s seekers were lazy slaggers anyway, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that they got caught.

But not so Starscream. He was the uncontested Master of the Skies, the Wing Lord, the supreme Decepticon Air Commander, and he could fly circles around any of his Seekers -- let alone those malfunctioning flightframe-wannabes.

And then one of them -- the artist, from the feel of it -- had the gall to assault _him_ despite his clear superiority in the air.

He screeched, first in surprise, then in anger, as sharp digits clutched at his wings and pitch elevator, the weight throwing him off-balance. The fragger was slagging _heavy_. Somehow the processor-challenged pit reject had managed to blind-side Starscream by falling onto him from a vector he hadn’t expected at all: above and behind.

He scowled all the harder as he fought down core-deep responses that had absolutely nothing to do with the way a hot frame was clinging -- painfully -- to his back.

Starscream bucked and twisted around his own axis, but Sunstreaker only held on all the tighter until Starscream’s plating threatened to buckle. Starscream had always laughed at his Seekers when they told him they couldn’t shake one of the abominations once they got a grip, but now he realized it was easier said than done. That fragger had the audacity to even whoop in joy as if this were nothing more than an amusement ride.

“You will get off right _now_ or I’ll make sure you won’t even live to see your own spark gutter out while I tear you apart!” Starscream shrieked in absolute fury.

Sunstreaker _laughed_ over the roaring wind, words ripped away as quickly as they formed as Starscream tried to accelerate to Mach levels despite the additional wind resistance. “See if you say the same when I’ve got you on the ground!”

And then there were touches along Starscream’s ailerons that were decidedly more than a mech just trying to grab a hold. Starscream nearly lost control as core coding -- that still had absolutely nothing to do with the situation -- once again clamored for attention. What the _frag_ was that groundpounder doing? Did he really want to make them crash?

“Just get off me, you pit-spawned split of a cleaning drone!” he shouted.

The digits on his leading wing edge only clenched harder, claws slipping in to rub harshly against sensor nodes in exactly the right way to make Starscream do anything _but_ get that yellow menace off. It was entirely vexing to discover, that the _other_ rumors that ran through his Seekers, were true as well -- the twins were not only encroaching on Seeker territory, but on Seeker customs, too. But Starscream was the Wing Lord, and Wing Lords didn’t let themselves be ridden into the ground. They were the ones who rode _others_ into the ground.

He did another triple corkscrew, followed by a sudden cutting of his engine and then even a reversal of thrust. It hurt like the pit to go from mach one to walking speeds within five nanokliks, but it served its purpose in dislodging the glitch. Unprepared for the sudden deceleration, Sunstreaker slid forward, lost his grip on Starscream’s wings. Now a forward flip to dislodge him completely --

Starscream screeched in pain as that dust-ridden micro-drone of a combat preprogram dared to create a handhold by sticking one of his blades into Starscream’s plating. Along his main trunk, too, right where the wing was attached.

He veered off to the side, tumbling in an uncontrolled fall as the blade had managed to pierce through the wing mounting and disrupt his control for half his left side. Lucky pit-spawned glitch of a --

Starscream’s optics flared in panic as the ground rose in a sickening caleidoscope much quicker than he had expected. Scrap, not the trees, not the trees --

Sunstreaker suddenly threw his entire weight to the right, the move ripping deeper into Starscream’s wing and forcing another scream from him. But at least he could see through the static of agony that they were probably going to come down _next_ to the trees. To make the humiliation complete, the fragging heap of scrap even stuck his servos into Starscream’s unresponsive wing flaps and _molested_ them into their correct landing position, something that every newspark Seeker should instinctively know how to do on their own.

The crash was less horrific than Starscream had feared. The yellow menace somehow managed to bring Starscream’s tail down so that it was more a graceless bellyslide than a full-out frontal collision. Still, it fragging _hurt_ , and he would probably find dirt in his seams for _orns_.

“Woohoo, what a ride!”

Starscream wanted to deactivate the pit-spawned worm so bad that he was trembling. “Get off me, you slag-headed glitch of a malfunctioning drone-’facer!” he sreeched, trying to get himself into a position where he could transform. But that yellow slagger stayed on Starscream’s back, prevented him from getting up, even prevented him from extending his landing gear, little help it would be now that he was on the ground already.

Sunstreaker leered, running his servos along Starscream’s lower wing edges. “That’s funny, getting off is exactly what I had in mind.”

Pleasant but unwelcome warmth spread through his circuits. Starscream hissed both at Sunstreaker’s audacity and the horrible pun. “What the frag do you think you’re doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” Sunstreaker chuckled and squeezed the wing edge just _so_.

Yes, Starscream was humiliatingly aware of what the yellow menace was doing, and worst of all -- Sunstreaker wasn’t half bad at it. Reflexively he ducked lower in his altmode and spread his wings to give the glitch better access.

He scowled, even as he arched into the rough tweaks to his plating and sensors. It was supposed to be _seeker_ territory, doing the Grounding like that. It was supposed to be done by superior flying skills, to force a seeker to the ground. Not by a grounder stealing a jetpack and jumping around like a half-programmed petrorabbit with a scraplet on its tail.

Starscream had laughed long and hard at the Coneheads, when he had heard the Twins had Grounded them. He had stopped laughing though when he had heard the titters behind his back, that the Twins sure knew how to properly finish the Grounding. He had watched his Seekers more closely after that, and he had been entirely unamused to discover that Groundings happened more often than he had thought, more often than strictly necessary even. What the _frag_ were those two pit-spawns doing that his Seekers were so eager for their attention?

Well, Sunstreaker answered part of it -- his servos on Starscream’s wings were fragging incredible, finding the exact right wires that made him forget all about the pain of his injury and the soreness of the crash.

“So, if I try and patch that hole in your side, will you take off on me ‘fore I’m finished?” the yellow glitch interrupted his reluctant arousal.

Of course he would take off if that slagger wasn’t holding him down -- his self-repair had already compensated for the injury and rerouted most of the commands through secondary and tertiary lines. Starscream hissed. “You’re not a Seeker! You have no right to the Grounding! I should blast you to Unicron and back!”

“Oh, so you’ve got a name for it? I wondered.”

Sunstreaker actually _dared_ to drape himself along Starscream’s back and revv his deep groundpounder’s engine right against Starscream’s cockpit. Starscream nearly missed Sunstreaker’s musings as sudden charge ripped through his lines.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking of doing a Seekers special. Your frametype’s got some interesting valve specs in alt-mode. You’re the only one that’s still missing from my measurements.”

Starscream huffed angrily. Of course Seeker valves were superior, not least of all because their interface array was still easily accessible in alt-mode. Before the war, he might have even accepted. But with what he had seen of Suni Flitzer’s works... He shuddered. “Frag you! I will not be painted as some pit-spawned organic cave!”

And yet, he couldn’t quite bring himself to shake off the slag-head. The rumbling engine was a delirious vibration against his plating, which was still reeking of the ozone from air friction, still running hot from the exertion of the furious flight and the humiliating crash. And the caress along his ailerons was better than any groundpounder had the rights to be. It was instinct that Starscream hunched further and loosened his armor to give Sunstreaker better access.

The yellow menace once again revved his engine in a full-body chuckle. “Who said I was going to be that unimaginative? Now, open up, you know you want to.”

“The frag I want!”

And yet the knee that teased his valve port cover, which sat at the center of his back, framed by the twinned tail fins, was... intriguing.

As a groundpounder, Sunstreaker didn't have any wings or elevons to get in the way as he slipped between Starscream's tail fins as if the space had been made for him. The relaxing of Starscream’s receptive interface hatch was nearly automatic. There was still an iris that kept the socket closed, but it was a weak and filigrane design compared to the armor-grade hatch covering it. And of course, the glitch took that as an invitation. Which it wasn't, not at all, even if Starscream pushed his wings further into those irritatingly skilled servos and spread his twinned tail fins to give Sunstreaker better access.

“That's right, it's a thorough fragging you want,” the yellow menace purred in amusement, sliding back a bit to get his pelvis to the port.

Starscream hissed at yet another horrible pun. He didn’t think he could survive another one of those. “Just get on with it! I don't want to listen to your slagging vocalizer!”

And the groundpounder got it on.

Starscream dimly thought he should assign punishment patrols to all his Seekers for the next millenium – of vorns – because surely it had been one of them who had taught the wheeled menace about the Grounding. Seekers were no fragile groundpounders. They were no weak-sparks who couldn't be faced without a slag-load of preparation. Grounded seekers were hot from the chase and their valves more than ready for the 'face, and – frag, the glitch-head knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Without letting go of Starscream's wings, Sunstreaker stabbed his extended spike at the still-closed iris of Starscreams port, hitting the center on the first try. Starscream bit back a yowl of pleasure because the port cover was exquisitely sensitive. Insistently, Sunstreaker tried again, butting his spike against the clenched center over and over until Starscream felt it was too much work fighting his reflex to yield. He groaned. It felt fragging incredible, letting the pressure of the spike gradually push the segments apart.

When the spike finally hit the first valve calipers, it drew a pleased hiss from them both. Contrary to standard valves, the distance between port cover and calipers was quite a way in; it was useful for mid-air couplings, because the part between iris and calipers was shaped like a funnel to help guide a spike inward. In return, it took quite a long spike to satisfy a seeker in alt-mode.

Sunstreaker pulled out a bit, servos searching for a better grip on Starscream's wings. And then, he _thrust_.

The spike went in, deeper than ever before until the grounder's groin was pressed right into Starscream's back plating and the ecstatic rev of Sunstreaker's engine vibrated right against core components. It felt like the spike was still going in though, somehow growing to reach deeper and deeper. Starscream couldn' contain the highpitched engine whine that increased with the spike's girth. Scrap, he had forgotten that special spike mod of the insane artist. He barely had enough processing power left to shiver at the thought that Sunstreaker might want to extract a full set of valve measurements. He’d suffered through them once, and it was an experience he hadn’t forgotten.

By the time the innermost sensors of his valve fired their delirious notices of _full/stretched/perfect_ , Starscream's engines howled into the supersonic. It was like a live-wire directly to his pleasure cortex, and he wasn't sure if he was elated or disappointed that the spike stopped growing right there. He trembled, instinctively pushing into the pleasant weight as far as his landing gear allowed. If that twin menace was a bit heavier, it would be the perfect Grounding.

Still, the weight along his back, the tight grip on his wings, and the perfect valve fit reminded him of those rare instances he had been Grounded in his early days. Even as a new-spark, he had been the one doing the Grounding in most cases, but his flight instructor in the war academy had regularly forced him out of the air, and frag if those hadn't been awesome Groundings. They had set his standards, and they hadn’t been met since. But, he had to admit, so far that yellow menace came slagging close.

It was reflex to clench around the spike, and it sent ripples of pleasure through him. The pull out set off new sensors, leaving Starscream nearly incoherent. Then Sunstreaker pushed in again, and Starscream was lost. He was being fragged wide open with a spike just this side of too big, his wings grabbed and kneaded and pulled on for leverage, and that low groundpounder engine that was like a full-frame vibration. It was slagging _perfect_ .

And then the pit-spawned glitch-head had to ruin it all by pulling out and doing his thrusts so shallow that the funnel barely guided them into his valve before he pulled out again. Three, four, and there wasn't even the highlight of a groin panel clanking against his dorsal plating.

His praise had been too soon, it seemed.

He hissed, trying to push back, but the spike remained so shallow. He wanted _more_. Why the frag had that preprog drone grown his spike when he wasn't using it? It didn't feel bad like this, but there was so much better of a charge to be had if that slagger. Would. Just –

He screeched in surprise as Sunstreaker suddenly thrust _deep_ , pushing raw ecstasy into his innermost nodes.

“That's right, scream for me,” Sunstreaker growled and hit _deep_ again. And then, the slagger had the nerve to go back to that shallow teasing again.

It was a rhythm, one of his processor threads informed Starscream after the next deep penetration. Five shallow ones to every two deep, and it was driving him insane. Even though he knew it was coming, the first long thrust always forced a surprised moan from him. And the anticipation made it all the sweeter.

Hot air, vented from Sunstreaker's plating, drafted down on him. There was static crackling through Starscream's lines as he decided the fragger was on to something. Two, three, not quite, not quite, and then pleasure like a mini-nova, and again, and it would be so perfect if he didn’t have to start counting _again_.

His wings quaked in the tight, nearly painful grip the artist used to get the needed leverage. Hot anticipation ran through every line as he wound tighter and tighter. More, more, more, and _yessss_ , perfect, and he should _send_ that _slagger_ to the _pit_! The _frag_ did he _think_ he was _doooo- oh- ing..._

It was ecstasy lined with frustration or frustration lined with ecstasy, he didn’t quite know, but it built and built and built. He was crackling with static, potential building up with the aborted thrusts, until it discharged into the first long one right against his innermost valve nodes. He couldn't contain the hoarse cry every time he was filled completely, and every time it was _too fragging short!_

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and screamed himself into overload. While the energy rushed through him in a glorious wave of static, Starscream was dimly aware that hard, deep thrusts extended his release, and the digits digging into his wings were positively divine.

When Starscream's processors rebooted, Sunstreaker was still fragging him, and in the languidity of post-overload haze it wasn't so much a chore as a pleasure to let the twinned menace reach overload, too. At least he had abandoned his ridiculous pattern and hit home every single time now.

It took another klik, and then transfluid sprayed against his deepest sensor nodes as Sunstreaker stiffened and ground himself against Starscream’s back plating until it felt like he was being shaken apart from the inside out. It was a nice bonus that wrenched Starscream through another, minor overload.

In the end, there was the groundpounder draped limply across his back, spike still in his valve, digits caressing his wings in tiny, mindless stroke. It was nice, but reality was starting to invade again. Starscream scowled. The battle was probably lost – again, Megatron could never pull off a success without Starscream there – and they were going to wonder where Starscream was pretty soon.

That, and he had absolutely no intention of getting glued together with a groundpounder by drying transfluid and valve lubricant.

“Get off me,” he hissed, twitching his wings and shifting on his landing gear to throw the yellow menace off. There was _dirt_ all over his ventral plating from the crash, and he _hated_ the way it would grind during transformation. And the injury to his left side still _hurt_ , even though his autorepair had gone to work during the short break and begun to fix things so that he had full control again.

When that slagging menace didn't comply quickly enough, he transformed out from beneath Sunstreaker as soon as there was no spike in his valve anymore. With his superior size and strength, he batted the fragger away, and screeched at him when he had the audacity to tell Starscream to wipe off his valve cover if he didn't want to be discovered. Then he was in the air again and shot towards the Nemesis, as his backed-up messages informed him that Megatron had indeed called a retreat.

–

Three weeks after the disastrous hydroelectric powerplant battle (and two other equally unsuccessful skirmishes for energon), communications officer Soundwave approached the seeker.

“Starscream: has received package from unknown sender.”

Soundwave didn't let so much as a single inflection enter his glyphs, even though he was quite aware of the contents of the package. He was the only one who cared enough to run a human post box, and it wouldn't do to simply bring a package on board of the Nemesis without ensuring its contents weren't harmful.

Emotions of surprise and elation were prominent in the Seeker's fields, a pleased stroke to his ego that he had received _mail_. They spoke the truth that Starscream’s frame tried to hide. Soundwave didn't react to the physical show of suspicion and scorn, a display Starscream thought necessary to show he wasn't too eager.

When the seeker stalked off in a huff – unable to conceal the pleased upward cant of his wings and the giddy excitement of his electromagnetics – Soundwave went back to his duties as if nothing had happened. Both Ravage and Laserbeak had hidden themselves in Starscream's quarters, and when they docked later this evening Soundwave would receive the full recording of what exactly he thought of the three paintings Suni Flitzer, alias Sunstreaker, had sent him.

Personally, Soundwave found the image of multiple bird nests dug into a soft sandstone cliff quite fitting for the Seeker flock. It was aesthetically pleasing, and clever glyphs of pleasure had been woven around the individual valve rims. The seeker probably would be less amused, but it was fitting punishment for that deception with Prime Housing.

He did not know though what Starscream had done to annoy Sunstreaker enough to receive another two renditions of the same topic, once as wood worm holes, and once as Swiss cheese.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirational sources (eh, they're all a bit... cracky :):
> 
> [Bird caves](http://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/blogs/fromthefield/files/2010/08/Aug-22-bird-nest-720x540.jpg)
> 
> [Wood worms](http://img.fotocommunity.com/images/Baeume/Baumrinden-wurzeln-Aeste/Labyrinth-fuer-Holzwuermer-a24591025.jpg)
> 
> [Swiss Cheese](http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/volff/volff1009/volff100900232/7836439-textur-der-schweizer-kase-close-up.jpg)


End file.
